


Throne

by horrorsilk



Series: Kinktober 2020 [28]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Gender-neutral Reader, Kinktober, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: The Worm King has chosen you as his right hand, as his most trusted follower. And with any promotion, it comes with its perks.For Kinktober 2020 prompt: face-fucking((Can also be a follow up to Thrall/Thrill/Thread/Thrive))
Relationships: Mannimarco (Elder Scrolls)/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947808
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Throne

He hooks a finger and beckons you closer; you, out of the throng of his followers are singled out to approach him. And while a few in the crowd give you dirty looks most of them seem jealous. And how could they not be? You are now the chosen of the Worm King, his most trusted and - in his own words - beloved servant. 

Beloved. 

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but the word sends chills down your spine. You make your way up the raised platform to where he is sitting on his dark throne, his staff clutched in one hand while the other is still lifted in your direction. When you reach his side, Mannimarco gives you the faintest of smiles before rising to his feet. With a sweeping gesture he introduces you to the rest of his followers, and you can feel their eyes boring into you as you struggle to maintain your composure. Part of you wants to smile, but you manage to keep your face straight as the Worm King assures all of his - and now your - subordinates that they are to obey your every word as if it came from his own mouth. It is an honour, a privilege, and your heart swells in your chest.

Finally, it seems as if Mannimarco has finished showing you off, and he dismisses the rest of the crowd, though of course he asks you to stay behind. You stare out over the throng of people as they exit the room, leaving the hall dark and empty save for you and the lich, who reached out and takes your wrist, pulling you flush against his chest. He leans the Staff of Worms against his throne and places both gauntleted hands on your waist, keeping you close as he smiles down at you. It's a cold sort of smile, but then again, everything about Mannimarco is as cold as death, so you shouldn't be that surprised. 

"My Chosen," is all he says, his voice an icy whisper, as he kisses you.

He's never kissed you like _this_ before. Soft, deep, almost sweet. It is, dare you say, a very loving kiss. Mannimarco pulls away and cradles the back of your skull, careful not to catch your scalp or hair with his sharp-edged gauntlets. 

"Yours," you murmur in agreement, and you're rewarded with another smile and an even rarer chuckle. Knowing that out of all of his followers, all of the necromancers who have pledged themselves to his service, the Worm King has chosen _you_ to be his right hand is more than you ever thought yourself capable of.

"And what a gift you are, my pet," he purrs, taking your jaw in his hand and turning your head so he can trail his lips down your neck. You shiver, breath catching when you feel the slightest edge of teeth against your skin. "I wonder just how much you're willing to give."

Your face is on fire but you give him a defiant look. "Everything. You know I would give you everything."

A single brow arches and Mannimarco looks both amused and impressed. "Oh?" He leans in very close, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of your ear as his voice falls to a husky whisper. "Prove it."

Without a moment of hesitation, and without breaking eye contact, you sink to your knees, hands gliding down the front of Mannimarco's legs to help keep you steady. Still keeping your eyes glued on his, you unlace the Worm King's trousers, pushing aside his belt and gently pulling his half-hard cock from the confines of his pants. Above you he hums in approval, stroking your hair as you take his length in hand and stroke it slowly, your thumb brushing over the crown with every pass. It only takes a few motions of your wrist to coax him to full hardness, and only a few even after that for precum to start beading up at the tip. You bow your head to swipe the pearl of his arousal away with your tongue, and Mannimarco shudders.

Only now do you break eye contact, your eyes closing as you focus on him, parting your lips to take the head of his cock into your mouth. His flesh is warm as blood pumps in the veins just below the skin, but he's still cooler than your mouth, but the sensation only heightens your own excitement as you press your tongue under his shaft, taking another inch or two. Mannimarco growls something in his native tongue, and both of his hands are on the back of your head now, the touch firm but not painful, and he doesn't force you. It's a sort of encouragement, which you accept with fervor, head bobbing up and down as his cock glides in and out of your mouth. He tastes salty, earthy, with a hint of something coppery, and it's perfect.

Everything about him is perfect.

You open your eyes to look up at him, your own body tingling at the sight of him, eyes hooded and glazed with lust, hair falling in snowy curtains around his face, mouth parted as he takes in shuddering breaths in between curses in Aldmeris. He catches your eye and his grip on the back of your head tightens. Much to your confusion, you feel him press his boot to one of your knees, pushing them apart. You let out a cry muffled by a mouthful of cock when he presses his foot against your crotch; even through the layers of fabric separating his boot from your sex the touch is enough to make you shiver. Above you Mannimarco laughs coldly, pressing his boot down more firmly before lifting it away.

"Touch yourself," he snarls, and it's both a request and a command, and you let his cock slide from your mouth just long enough to pull open your own breeches. The moment you press your fingers against your own arousal, Mannimarco's hands are back gripping at your scalp, and you part your lips as he thrusts into your mouth.

The movements he makes are slow, but deliberate, his cock repeatedly tickling the back of your throat as you touch yourself in time with his thrusts. But you look up at him just long enough to see the almost vicious look on his face before you get an idea. As he's sliding his length out of your mouth to give you a chance to catch your breath, you relax your jaw, suck in a lungful of air, and when he's pressing back in, you swallow. 

Mannimarco makes a strangled, guttural noise you've never heard him make before as his cock glides down the back of your throat. Your nose is pressed to the front of his chestplate now, and it takes both of you a moment to gather yourselves before his hands force your head back, and then he's fucking down your throat with vigor. Tears well up in your eyes as you take shallow breaths through your nose when able. You've abandoned touching yourself as you grip onto his thighs to keep yourself grounded. But you don't even care; the Worm King is fucking your throat and cursing loudly and he's obviously so lost in his own pleasure he can't even think straight. And you're the one who's giving this to him. It makes you feel oddly powerful.

With a final, echoing cry, Mannimarco shoves himself fully down your throat as he breaks, and you can feel his cum flooding down your throat in hot spurts. He pulls himself out of your mouth, and you cough, gasping for breath, your throat and jaw sore. His hands grip your shoulders and he pulls you to your feet, pressing his lips against yours in a greedy kiss you eagerly reciprocate. His tongue is in your mouth, and your own lashes out to meet it.

"You are...that was..." He can't even speak when you part, his thumb swiping away the tears still clinging in your eyelashes. "Are you all right?"

Throat still sore, you simply nod, giving a tremulous but sincere smile. Mannimarco kisses you again, slower this time, and chuckles against your lips.

"Well, then, allow me to return the favor, pet," he purrs, and turns you around to seat you on his throne. 

The stone is blessedly cool against your heated flesh, even through your clothing. Much to your surprise, it's Mannimarco who is now kneeling before you, dragging your pants the rest of the way down your legs with a flourish. Your heart leaps into your throat as he takes your legs and spreads them apart, eyeing your arousal with bright eyes. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he bends, pressing his mouth against your sex almost like he's kissing it. A hand flies up to cover your mouth so you can stifle the gasps and moans that threaten to leave your lips, but he takes your wrist and forces it away. 

"I want everyone to hear you," he rasps, and those words alone are enough to make you whimper. 

He turns his attention back to your sex, his tongue slicking along it, swirling patterns against the burning flesh. When he's sure you're not going to cover your mouth again, his hands fall to your thighs, kneading the flesh as he tastes you. Finally his tongue traces lower before it comes to rest against your entrance, circling it for a moment before he lowers his hands from your thighs, removing his gauntlets so he can press a finger inside of you. Stars shoot across your vision as he fucks into you with his fingers, all while his mouth still traces patterns and sucks at your most sensitive of places. And when he hooks his finger inside of you, pressing firmly against the spot he _knows_ drives you wild, you shatter, crying your release as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

It's only when your cries of pleasure turn into sobs, when you're shaking and unable to think that Mannimarco removes his fingers and mouth, sweeping his cape from his shoulders and draping it over you. He bends, scoops you up into his arms, and carries you to his chamber, where he gently lays you on his bed. Exhausted, you have just enough energy to wrap yourself in the quilt and roll onto your side to see where he's gone. He's sitting at his desk, scribbling on some parchment and humming softly.

Still, he glances over at you and gives you a cool smile. "Rest, pet, you need it. When you wake, I have something to ask of you."

Yawning, you snuggle further into the folds of the blanket. "And what would you ask of me, my lord?"

"Well, I would rather _not_ have your things moved here unless you wanted to share my chambers. But again, you need to rest."

Exhausted as you are, a wide smile spreads over your face. Mannimarco wants to share his chambers with you? You have your own questions, but he's right; you're too tired to get into any meaningful discussions right now.

"As you wish, my lord."


End file.
